Six Years and a few thrown plates Later
by originalnamehere
Summary: Dramione! Title kind of speaks for itself. This is a random little oneshot I decided to write. It's a happy ending. Those are rare for me. Rating just to be sure....Anyways, enjoy! And review! new chapter!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I wish I did, but, then again, If I did own Harry Potter, I'd have never been able to go all shool-girl crazy over the books. And I really liked going school-girl crazy over the books.

* * *

It was six years later. Voldemort had fallen, and Harry had taken a job at the ministry. His wife, Ginny, started the pee-wee-Quidditch teams in their and all surrounding communities. It was almost like real Quidditch, and sometimes attracted very large crowds. Her three children were better at the game than their parents were at that age.

Ron had followed his Father into the Misuse of Muggle's Artifacts department of the ministry. He lived a peaceful life with his wife, Lavender Weasley, and their twin girls.

George was all over the new Weasley pair. He spoiled them constantly, and taught them all the best pranks(much to the annoyance of their Mother). He kept in the funny business. Said that Fred would've killed him if he did anything otherwise (I suppose he found this funny because of the smile that slowly tugged at his lips). His Mother constantly asks if he will ever settle down and wed his girlfriend of five years. They remain without child, and plan to keep it that way (for now, at least).

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley spent the remainder of their lives surrounded by grandchildren. They were quite content.

Luna and Neville held a small ceremony of closest friends and family to celebrate their marriage. To the shock of many, she gave birth to a young girl seven months and one week later. Neville was a professor at the school, so to be near her husband she built a second hut next to Hagrid's and helped him with the Care of Magical Creatures class. For many years the students of Hogwarts were unsure if Nargles really existed or not.

Hargid lived out the remainder of his life surrounded by children. He often bothered Hermione to get married soon. He wouldn't live forever and he wanted to see the young girl (who might as well be his daughter) get married before he died. There was a shockingly large Funeral for Fang.

Hermione Granger was a shock to the entire Wizarding community. She followed suit to their expectations of her when she joined some strange Department of the Ministry that was dedicated to studying, experimenting, and other Hermione-sounding things. However, after two years of this, Hermione simply quit. She then almost completely left the Wizarding world. This was quite the shock. Everyone expected Hermione Granger to find the cure to cancer or some other amazingly big thing, and yet, she'd just left. She left to go be some normal witch. She left to be just like everybody else. No one understood this. She effectively disappointed the entire Wizarding community with two words. _'I quit.'_ She showed up in a random gossip magazine on occasion, all of them contemplating her sudden disappearance, and all of them trying to guilt somebody, _anybody_ into telling them something that was _remotely_ true.

Draco Malfoy was also quite the surprise. Everybody expected him to do some glamorous, celebrity dream job. Everybody expected it would be easy to be jealous of the beautiful boy, and every girl prepared for this moment so they'd have someone famous, who actually looked good, to throw themselves at. However, Draco Malfoy failed to live up to their high expectations of him. Draco Malfoy more or less fell off the face of the Earth. All those who did know where he was, weren't talking, while all those who didn't know, were.

Needless to say, the Daily Prophet was very disappointed in its lack of eye catching headlines.

--o--

I groaned and rolled in bed. A bright streak of light that somehow found its way through my curtains stabbed my eyes. I smothered myself and let out another groan.  
Today is going to be awful. I just know it. The moment that dream decided to haunt me tonight, I knew that any chance of a good day had gone completely out the window.  
I waited. I knew she'd be coming soon. I'd made sure that when she did come (which should be any minute now) that she'd see me asleep. Or at least in bed. It made me happy to know that I got to punish her for making me agree to this _stupid_ date.  
There was a loud sound as the fire blazed. I heard her coughing, and brushing the dust off her jeans. Then I heard her scream. Ah, lovely.

She was pissed. I smiled into the pillow.

"Hermione Granger." Her voice was dangerous. I peeked with one eye over the dark purple velvet pillow. I immediately ducked back under the pillow for safety reasons.

"Hermione Granger, you are going to get out of bed." We waited. She pulled off my lavender blanket and dark purple under sheet and tore the pillow out of my face. I was now cold from the lack of warm blankets (even though it was spring and sunny and _bloody_ wonderful out today) and had the sun stabbing my eyes again. I moaned in frustration.

"Now, Hermione," at least her tone was softer. "you are going to get out of bed. And then you are going to take a shower. Then after that, you are going to get ready. After you have completed all previously stated tasks, you will. Go out. With. Donald. Understand?" No. The gentler voice was scarier. Much scarier.

"Fine. I'll get a shower." I mumbled and consented to her list of annoying tasks.

Yep. I knew it. I just got out of bed, and today is already awful.

Okay. So, I know I have no right to be angry with Ginny. I mean, I had set her up to be angry. And on top of that, I'd already stood up so many of the guys she'd tried to set me up with. So, the idea of me doing it again didn't exactly catch her fancy. I know all those things. And yet, I'm still mad at her for waking me up. Even though I was kind of already awake. Still. I was under my covers.

--o--

I decided to put my hair up in a clip, rather than deal with it, and had Ginny help me choose what to wear. We decided on my favorite old jeans, a black wife-beater, and a cute, thin, snug sweater that I loved. It was a very light purple, almost white, with just a dash of pink mixed in. It had a hood with long bunny ears on it that looked adorable and went very nicely against my tan skin.

When I said '_we'_ agreed, what I meant was _'I decided on'. _Ginny didn't think I looked adult enough, but this was my favorite sweater, and she's a year younger than I am so I don't care. I'm twenty three years old. I don't _technically_ have to be an '_adult'_ yet. I gulped. Yet. Uragh! When did acting my age become so _hard_?

Oh yeah. When…_that_ happened. My shoulders visibly dropped.

"Hermione?" I looked over at her. "You had that dream again, didn't you?" I nodded. "When will you forget him?" She didn't say it like she was accusing me. She didn't say it like she was tired of it. She didn't say it like I was an idiot. She said it like she was honestly sorry that I couldn't seem to forget him. What he'd done to me. What he'd said to me. The scars on my heart that looked as if they'd never heal.

"Come on. Maybe Donald will help you forget? Maybe he's just the guy you need to help you forget about him."

"What if I don't _want_ to forget about him, Ginny? What if I want to stay at home and wait until he decides to come back from where-ever-the-shikatiki-mushrooms-he-bloody-went?" Ginny just gave me that sad look. The one where you just know that what you've said has broken their hearts in some small way. It wasn't because of what you said, or how you said it. It was that she knew you really thought and felt that way, and that almost nothing could change it. It was that look of heartbreak a close friend gets when you're in pain and they know that there is absolutely nothing they can do to help you but stand by and watch. And hope.

Ginny was hoping that Donald was that man who could finally pull me out of this stubborn, _stupid_ waiting. Even I knew that it was stupid to wait. Six years and not a word. Absolutely _nobody_ knew where he was. If he really _did_ care, he'd have said something. _Anything_. But no. He hadn't even shown up in the Daily Prophet's obituaries. I know. I check them every day. And, on top of that, there was no real evidence that he actually loved me in the first place. Sure he'd said so, but we were in the middle of a war. You'd say anything when you're at war. I sighed inwardly. Something, some small, annoying little _thing_ inside of me, inside my soul, kept whispering to wait just a little bit longer. Only a little bit longer. If I could just wait that _tiniest_ bit _longer_. Then maybe, just _maybe_, he'd come back.

But he wouldn't come back. He never would. Not now, not then. Not _ever_.

"Well, Ginny." I stood up, pocketed my wand, and walked toward the fireplace. "I've got a _date_ to go on."

"Good luck." She smiled and waved after me.

I gave her a small, half hearted smirk. "_Thanks_." And off I flooed.

--o--

The place was a well known one. I rather loved it here. The food was wonderful, the service was great, and I knew the staff here.

"Hey, Mathew. Who's the new guy?" He smiled.

"Oh, man, 'Mione. This guy is _hot_!" I always did wonder if Mathew was a little too- what's that word? Oh, forget it. That boy is flaming gay, and we all knew it.

He looked me up and down and raised an eyebrow. "You just _had_ to wear the bunny ear sweater." I smirked.

"Oh, come on, Mathew. We all know you're only jealous and want it all for yourself."

"Darn right!" He gave me _that_ smirk and led me to my table, where _he_ sat, waiting for me. Mathew informed us he was going to get our waiter, after some obvious flirting with a very confused and slightly freaked out Doanld. And go gossip to them about 'Mione's new man, no doubt.

"Hello, Hermione. I'm Donald." He held out his hand. Mathew was not kidding. Donald Mayhew was a very nice looking young man. He had hazel eyes, with flecks of gold in them. His hair was a dirty blonde, thick and slightly falling in his eyes. His skin was lightly tanned, and he was tall. You could tell, even when he was sitting down. His smile was warm. I had to admit, I liked him from the start.

"Hello, Donald." I shook his hand and looked down at the menu. I wasn't expecting much, so I wasn't trying to have a conversation with him.

"What's your favorite color?" Strange question.

"Purple."

"What's your favorite book?" I smiled. Ah, my weak spot.

"Count of Monte Cristo."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Strange." I looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. Another wizard knows something about muggle books? "Well, it's just that your favorite book is mainly about revenge. I find that strange."

"You've read the Count of Monte Cristo?"

"Well, yeah. I'm fascinated with anything muggle." I smirked. Of course, most Wizards are.

"Well, I live in muggle London." His eye widened.

"Really?"

I gave a lazy shrug. "Well, yeah. I did grow up there."

"Oh, so you're muggle born."

"Yes."

"So, you'd know everything about muggles."

I laughed, "Well, yes."

He smiled. "Wonderful."

I giggled. "I love the questions you ask."

"Well, Ginny told me that you weren't one for second dates, so I thought I'd try and get to know you on the first one. That way I have the knowledge I need about you to woo and convince you to go on a second date with me." His tone was teasing. I smirked.

"Smart man."

"I like to think so."

Daisy came by now. "Hello guys. I'll be your waiter today and _Merlin_, 'Mione if you don't give this man fighting chance, I'll take him out for dinner _myself_. Now, what can I get you?"

I glared at her, and Donald just laughed.

"I'll have my usual, Daisy." Sarah took my menu and smirked mischievously. I continued to glare daggers at her.

"And you?"

"Well, I'll have the Ruben sandwich." He smiled and handed Daisy his menu.

"Coming right up." She spun on her heels and left, throwing a wink my way over her shoulder.

"So. How many guys have you gone on a date with, here?" My cheeks went pink.

"I donno….Maybe, twenty?"

"Twenty?"He was more surprised than he was angry or disgusted, which is more than I can say for some of the guys my friends set me up with. I bit my bottom lip.

"I didn't like any of them. The most of them were all snotty, high and mighty Wizards who thought they knew everything. Then the others were just…creepy." I shivered at the thought of one of my most disastrous dates.

--o--

We were walking down the sidewalks, just wandering around. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans, and a half opened button down, revealing the thin black undershirt. I was right, he's a good head taller than I am, and he's quite well built. We weren't holding hands or anything, but we had just left a book store where he'd bought me a small 'classic' piglet plush toy. I hadn't dragged him in, actually we both went in on instinct. We had spent a few minutes wandering around surrounded by the smell of old parchment and leather bindings (my favorite smell) and then he presented me with the plushie. He just the right size, not too small, but not too big. Just right.

I was wondering why a Wizarding book shop was selling Piglet plush toys, though.

I guess we'll never know.

"Have you ever been in love?" I looked up at him, but the only look on his face was interest. He truly wanted to know. I looked down at my Piglet plushie and fiddled with it nervously.

"Once."

"Oh? And what happened?"

"He left." I whispered. It hurt, the truth.

Wait. Why was I telling him all of this again? I looked up at him, our eyes locking for the ump-tenth time today.

Oh. That was why.

"Why would anyone do that?"

"I don't know. He just kind of, disappeared." My eyes were starting to sting. I looked away, well aware of the fact that my cheeks were puffy with a half-pout.

"Well, I'd never do that to you." I smiled at his words.

"What about you?" I looked back over at him, peeking under from my eyelashes. He gave a small smile.

"Yeah. Twice."

"Oh? What happened to them?"

"Well, the first one I married-"

"You're married?!" I almost screamed. Why would Ginny set me up with someone who was married?! Maybe she didn't know, of course she didn't know; she'd never do that. Anger started to boil over.

"No, no! I _was_. _Was_ _married_. Not anymore." Oh. He still had his hands up, palms facing me, like those guys are supposed to when the cops tell you to get out of the car.

"Oh. Sorry." He gave me an amused smirk and returned his hands to his pockets. I smiled shyly. Oops. "So, um, what happened to her?"

"She died. During childbirth." Now he was the one whispering. Oh, _Merlin_! And I'd accused him of _cheating_! I'm an absolutely awful person. "No, it's okay. I understand why you would've thought that. And, honestly, it's okay. At least I've got our daughter."

"That must be your second love." He smiled.

"Yeah." He looked off into space, a warm smile gracing his lips. "Her name is Amber." He spoke the name with such reverence, I couldn't help but smile at this man's love for his daughter.

"Lemmie guess, she loves pee-wee Quidditch." He shook his head. Yeah, I remembered Ginny talking about her once.

I feel like I shouldn't have dressed like a teenager today.

--o--

I smiled as I walked into my house from the floo. I sighed and flopped into the couch, snuggling my Piglet into my dusty cheek. Time to clean the fireplace.

"About time, Hermione!" Ginny called, 'rounding the corner and gasping at the look on my face. I giggled and batted my eyelashes innocently at her.

"Hermione! You're _smiling_." She smirked and rushed to my side on the couch. "You must tell me everything!"

--o--

"And we have another date for next week."Ginny giggled like the Hogwarts school girl she'd never fully grown away from and I couldn't help but join in. She made acting your age seem just as stupid as everybody else kept telling me it was.

"Wait, what about a goodbye kiss?" I rolled my eyes. That was all she ever cared about.

"Well, we hugged, and he kissed my cheek." My fingers somehow found their way to that same cheek, lightly touching it, remembering that soft caress of lips against soft skin. A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

I snapped my head over to Ginny, suddenly leaving my thoughts. She was trying very hard to suppress her big, goofy smile, and failing miserably by the way. I rolled my eyes at her and her smile went full blown.

"What?" She asked, like she _didn't_ know.

--o--

I flopped onto my bed, and sighed. I was all clean from my shower, and nice and ready for bed, the day's events still dancing across my mind, all of them stained with the bright glow of sunlight and good feelings. My piglet plushie was sitting on my pillow, my hand barely touching it to make sure it didn't fall off onto the floor. I got to sleep quickly and easily that night. It was the first night in six years that that has happened.

I dreamt of _him _again, just like every night for the past six years.

--o--

I was standing behind my counter, ringing up my customer's few items. I was running a small shop on the first floor of the four leveled building I'd inherited in muggle London. Yes, my Grandparents were dead, no, I have no idea why they have me a four floored building. Either way, I loved this place. Maybe that was why? They always knew I'd wanted to open a little shop on the corner and live in the levels above it. At least, I'd wanted to when I was younger. The thing I'd sell was always different every time I'd talked to them. I missed them. It had gotten easier to deal with, the pain of losing a loved one, but sometimes, at night, I would sit there and wish that I could just call up my Grandmother. She always helped me make sense of my crazy thoughts. That's what Grandma's are best at. Teaching you to slow down and think things through.

The bells over the door chimed, telling me I had new customers. I looked over at them and away from my thoughts when I noticed just who it was.

"Hey, Donald!" I smiled and he looked up at me.

"Well, Hello, there, Hermione. Do you work here?" He looked around at the small shop. There were shelves of books on one wall, and a counter with seats on one wall, two tables and a few squishy chairs scattered in between.

"Yes. I also live here. Upstairs." His eyebrow shot up. "I own this place." His other eyebrow got lonely and rose to meet his other one, a smile tugging on his lips in comprehension.

"Ah."

"What are you doing in muggle London, anyways?" A little girl with deep red ringlets darted across my vision and I moved my head to look down at her.

"We were meeting my Grandpa. Then Daddy said he would take me to get ice cream." And that was why I put 'We sell ice cream' on the door outside.

"Well, you must be Amber." She smiled shyly and put a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. The curls were natural. She was around five and she was adorable.

"And you're 'Mione. Daddy told me all about you." She put her hand to her mouth and snickered mischievously.

I couldn't help but laugh. "Let's go get some ice cream." I turned around and walked down the small way for a bowl and a spoon.

"I want vanilla!" She hopped up onto one of the chairs in front of the counter, her Father following closely.

"Alright. Vanilla." I skimmed my eyes over the nozzles, looking for the one that said Vanilla. Ah, there it was. I pulled it down and the vanilla ice cream came out in swirls. The little girl gasped and I turned to look at her. Her eyes were wide with wonder and her mouth was hanging open. Oh yeah. She probably saw people just magic ice cream in her bowls, so I guess this was like magic to her. I smiled and pulled the nozzle back up, placed the spoon in it, and handed it over to the young girl. "Vanilla ice cream." She smiled and dug in, and I turned my attention to Donald.

"Well, hello there, stranger." He gave me an extremely attractive smile. My cheeks got a little warmer.

"Well, hello there to you, too." I gave him an equally attractive smile and rested my elbows on the countertop, resting my hands on my interlaced fingers.

"How's your week been?" Five days since I'd seen him, and only two more until our next date, and here he sat, charming me. Hm.

"Great. Yours?"

"Better now." My cheeks got a bit warmer. Flirtatious _man_.

"That's good."

"Ms. 'Mione?" I looked over at Amber and smiled.

"Hm?"

"Why doesn't that picture move?" My smile grew wider.

"Well, you see, there was this selfish King." My arms dropped, overlapping each other as I set them down on the countertop to give my mouth more room to tell the familiar story. "And he was always talking of himself, and he never listened to anyone. So, one day, while he was riding his royal cart, speaking of the wonders of his great self, he saw a woman. And this woman was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen before. She looked up at him from her apple stand, and the second his eyes saw hers, he fell deeply in love."

"What was her name?" Amber asked, immediately entranced with the story.

"Well, we'll get to that soon." Amber sneered and absentmindedly scooped a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and I continued with my Granddad's story.

"And he immediately jumped from his royal carriage, ran to her, took her hand, and fell on his knees. 'My fair maiden, I have spied you from my royal carriage. Please, tell me your name, oh, fair and beautiful maiden.' He said. Well, the fair maiden, knowing that the King was a selfish man, refused to tell him." Amber gasped. I smiled. "'Fair maiden, I will give you anything you wish for. Even half my kingdom.' She still refused. As you guess, the King was not used to being refused what he wanted, so he became more desperate. He had to know her name. 'Fair maiden, just tell me your name, and I give you all of my Kingdom, and all of my fortune, just tell me your name.' He pleaded. Again, she refused. The King offered one more time. 'Fair maiden, I shall give you all my Kingdom, all my gold, I shall make you Queen, and I shall be your slave, If you will only tell me your name.' Still, she refused. Well, the King was quite confused by this, and in his frustration, he asked her what she wanted from him that he could give her. 'My great King, you are selfish, and you care only for your gold, your Kingdom and yourself. I shall never tell a King like you my name.' The King was quite saddened by this. 'Very well, fair maiden.' He said. He released her hand, and stood up, and turned to the great crowd that stood watching him. 'George!' George, his royal Vizier, stood up from his carriage and walked to the King. 'George, you are to be King now. You will take my gold, my Kingdom, and I shall be King no more.' Well, everybody was shocked by this, but none was more shocked than the fair maiden. The King had just renounced everything he had, simply to know her name. 'Margret' she said, and all the ex-King did was kiss her hand, smiling the goofiest smile. They were married one month later. That is them, after many years, and still deeply in love."

"Did he ever become King again?" Amber asked, her ice cream left completely forgotten before her.

"Oh, no. He'd given up his Kingship for her. There was no going back. His Royal Vizier made a great King, and all the Kingdom lived in peace and happiness for as long as the two lived. And they lived very long."

Amber looked over at the picture again. "Where are they going?"

I looked over at the picture, too. "Hm. I'm not sure. I don't think they know either. Just as long as they get there together." I smiled and Amber examined the picture for a little longer.

"Where'd you come up with that?" Donald asked me, an interested smile playing on his lips.

"It was a story my Granddad told me. That's the picture of him and my Grandmother."

"Hm."

"Yep. My Granddad said that whenever I considered marrying a man, I should think of that story."

"Why? The King was selfish. He didn't care for anything except his title and gold."

I opened my mouth to correct him. But, he didn't get it? I closed my mouth and he stole some of his daughter's ice cream. I couldn't help the pricking sadness I felt at his not understand the story.

Donald and Amber left soon after that.

--o--

"She knew that the King loved her, because he listened to her, and gave up everything he loved. Everything that made him who he was. For her. That's who your Granddad wanted you to marry. Someone who could push aside his great ego, and give up everything. Just to be able to say your name. Right?" My hands froze. A swirl of emotions fluttered in my chest. I turned around slowly, my throat feeling as if there was a large storm rising in it.

And there he stood. His shoulders were slumped, and he looked extremely exhausted. He was pale, but this was a sickly pale, not his usual pale. His eyes were sad, and had long since lost his mischievous glint and sparkle. He was thin, thinner than usual. I swallowed hard. As hard as I tried, I couldn't find my voice, so I just nodded.

A part of me wanted to throw a plate at him. I wanted to throw many plates at him. In fact, there were some next to me, almost screaming at me to throw them. I refrained myself. Another part of me wanted to cry. Just fall to my knees and cry and cry and cry. Still, another part of me wanted to yell. Yell and yell, and yell until I went hoarse or my throat started to bleed. Whichever came first. And still, yet, another part of me wanted to jump over the countertop and ran into his arms and _beat_ him for leaving me.

Instead, I just stood there, and watched him. Eyes wide. Breathing shallow. My bottom lip shaking.

"Hello, Hermione." He gave a memory of a smile to me and I snapped. The plates started to fly across the room. He didn't move. I wasn't throwing them at him, just in his general direction. You didn't have great aim when your vision was blurred from tears and you were too busy screaming a number of inappropriate words at someone.

"Six years, you blasted blonde-headed, _Slytherin,_ **arse**! You could've said something! _Anything_! Just a little note saying '_Sorry_. _I'm alive. Love you.' _Dear, _Merlin_, Malfoy! Just _something_! Where the _hell_ were you?!" I threw my last plate and he still didn't move. I couldn't. I just…couldn't. All the anger melted away and I was just left as a shell. My knees buckled and I fell to the floor. I heard the swish of his jacket as he hurried around the counter. I was crying into the floor, laying on the ground for a more comfortable mental breakdown.

I felt his hand hesitantly touch my hair in an attempt to comfort me. I looked up at him from my tear stained arms. "Where. Were. You?" I didn't attempt to hide the sudden void of all emotion I was feeling.

He refused to look me in the eye. "They took me away. To a prison."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You would've come."

"Well, aren't you just _bloody_ brilliant?" The sarcasm dripped from my words in thick, green ooze. I set my face back into my arms, looking away from him, a pout evident of my face.

He gave a silent, humorless chuckle. "I didn't want you to see me like that."

"I don't care if you were behind some iron railings, Draco. I just wanted to know if you were alive."

We sat there in silence for a long time. He took to drawing little circles on my arm.

"Did you really ever love me?" I whispered, afraid of the answer. He stayed silent, the circles stopped as he pulled his hand away. I knew it. So it was just a lie. Just a lie my mind fabricated. I closed my eyes.

"Hermione. How could you think that?"

An absolute soul-crushing dread overtook me. '_I told you.'_ My mind mocked me. Tears blurred my viosion again.

"I will always love you. No matter what you think." His voice rang with the smirk that I'd missed for six years now. I turned over to look at him, feeling as if the floor had given way and I was suddenly, somehow, falling. He leaned down, brushing his lips over the very cheek Donald had. Where Donald's kiss left tingles and sweetness, Draco's left kiss left pure fire and an absolute passion. My lips shook.

"If you ever leave me again." I left my threat uncompleted, letting him choose his own worst punishment. That, plus his lips kind of attacked mine in such a pleasing fashion that I couldn't find the will to complete the sentence hanging in the air.

Those were my favorite plates….

* * *

**Hello Fanfiction buddies! I'm new. **

**I'm not saying this because I'm new. I'm saying this because this is how I truely feel. Do not yell at me about how stupid this is. I will hit you over the head with a frying pan. Be nice if you have issues with my writing. Or at least pretend to be be nice, for the sake of your skulls. I'm fine with constructive critisism, that's why I'm here. Just don't be a total prick about it. So review and let me know whats good, and what's not. **

**This was a weird story I decided to write for my first one ever. I'm a bit of a perfectionist, and so it takes me a while to be okay with what I have before I publish it. I'm proud of this piece.**

**And if you liked this, I'll be writing a much darker one soon, so keep your eyes peeled for when that one shows up. **

**;D **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey! So, it came to my attention that you guys don't really understand what Draco's doing in jail.**

**Yeah, my bad.**

**Anyways, I wrote this to help you guys understand.**

* * *

Narcissa sat on her chair, and continued worrying her lip.

She'd started this little habit six years ago, when _they_ came and snatched her family away from her.

In an attempt to be kind, her husband and her son both pleaded in the courts that she was merely a woman who refused to leave because of her love for her son. It was true; Narcissa Malfoy did not bear the Dark Lord's mark.

The courts ultimately sided in her favor, and released her.

Narcissa was deeply saddened.

She was now forced to live in a house, all alone, her entire family either dead or locked away in prison.

She spent her days looking forward to the one day a month she was allowed to see her son.

She never understood fully why they took him away.

They spared her, right?

But, no. Her son bore the Dark Lord's mark. He brought about the capture of Hogwarts and the death of its beloved Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

So her son was snatched away, for six years.

Six years in a small hole underground, barely any food, barely any light.

Her son was to be released in one week. The happiness that flowed through her veins was absolutely indescribable. I shall not sully her happiness with mere words. 'Happiness' is almost alien to this feeling coursing throughout her small frame now. Only Mothers could understand such a feeling. It is somewhat akin to the feeling a Mother gets when she first lays her eyes on her newborn child.

Absolutely indescribable.

"Narcissa Malfoy?" Her head shot up to the young witch that held a clipboard. "You may visit your son now." Unbeknownst to Narcissa, she had created a small spot inside this young witch's heart. Never did Narcissa miss one meeting with her son. She felt that her son didn't deserve to be here. Almost immediately after Draco's release from this small prison, she quit and went into business for herself, selling some 'thing' or other.

Narcissa made her way slowly to her son's cell. Every time she saw him, her heart almost broke. Another feeling only Mothers can empathize with.

"Mother. I am to be released tomorrow." Draco gave a small hint of a smile. Tears sprung to Narcissa's eyes.

"Yes. I know. I was wondering, when I could meet her?" Draco rolled his eyes, trying his best to act normal for his mother, a memory of a smirk twisting on his lips in a feeble, dying dance.

"I have to know if she'll still have me, Mother. After all, it had been six years." Draco was very good at hiding his true emotions. Even from his Mother.

"I don't understand, Draco. Why could I have not spoken with her before hand?" Narcissa was confused as to why, when he was in prison, did he ignore the one woman he loved.

"Because, she would have wanted to come if she knew."

"Of course." Narcissa knew this was why. He didn't want her to see him like this. He barely wanted his Mother to see him like this. His fragile heart couldn't take it if his one and only love fully knew what he went through because of his past mistakes.

He only hoped that he wasn't too late.

A small, precious shard of light glittered across the room, and with this, Draco could watch the only picture on his wall.

It was small, and moved. The girl in it hid her eyes from the bright sun, a large smile on her face. She moved happily, wondering over and under the tree's branches.

This was a picture that was silently stolen during a summer's day. They'd shared two week with each other before he was taken away. During all this time, Draco had stolen many pictures of this beautiful woman who'd stolen his heart. The summer breeze played with her hair, the sun caressed her features. Draco could almost smell the sun warmed apples and freshly mowed grass.

His fingers traced her fleeting outline as she disappeared behind the tree's large trunk, stepping carefully over the large roots and ducking gracefully under the branches, smiling beautifully all the while.

Narcissa knew that this girl would take her son back. How could she not? No, she would love him, still. And then she would have a Daughter. And her son would start to heal.

Narcissa's life was looking less lonely by the moment, and her heart swelled as the tears fell.

* * *

**So, does this help?**

**I hope so.**

**Just so you guys know, I have zero intention to continue adding to this story. Sorry.**

**However, I just had to write this when someone told me about my major flaw. (Thank you, Slytherin'sSarah!)**

**And, I also want to take this time and say:**

**THANK YOU!!!! T-T**

**To all my lovely fans! I was absolutely shocked when I got good reviews,**** almost burst through the ceiling jumping for joy when I got added to 'Favotire Stories's and 'Favorite Author's Lists everywhere! GAHHHHHHHH!!!!!! Thank you guys SO MUCH! I wrote this for ya'll!  
**


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